Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the society of clever women.–Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
A Coney Island of the Mind, 13
Not like Dante
discovering a commedia
upon the slopes of heaven
I would paint a different kind
in which the people would be naked
as they always are
in scenes like that
because it is supposed to be
a painting of their souls
but there would be no anxious angels telling them
how heaven is
the perfect picture of
and there would be no fires burning
in the hellish holes below
in which I might have stepped
nor any altars in the sky except
fountains of imagination
He yearned to step out of his life the way one steps out of a house into the street.—Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
I desired to see new things. I desired to experience volumes.—Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor.—Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
No one who is good can ever be ugly.—Roald Dahl, The Twits
Happiness is harder to put into words. It’s also harder to source, much more mysterious than anger or sorrow, which come to me promptly, whenever I summon them, and remain long after I’ve begged them to leave.—David Sedaris, Calypso
To Friends at Home
To friends at home, the lone, the admired, the lost
The gracious old, the lovely young, to May
The fair, December the beloved,
These from my blue horizon and green isles,
These from this pinnacle of distances I,
The unforgetful, dedicate.
I was okay just a moment ago. I will learn how to be okay again.—Nina LaCour, We Are Okay